Hello everyone…(is greeted with pissed silence.) Umm…. I'm sorry? Yeah, writers-block can be a Bi-atch. No, I will not blame this HUGE haitus on 'writers-block' but I can say that there is a fair amount of drafts for this chapter in the cyber-trash. Yeah, but not only that, even though my life isn't that exciting(to you guys maybe) I've been kinda occupied. I had basketball all during the summer, from 8:00am to 6:00pm, and yeah so it winter… I'm finally a Freshman guys, okay? And I just hit the big, old fourteen today guys(4:00am Nov. 28) while I finish this as a birthday gift for myself. Yes, enough with excuses, on with the story. I do apologize for the wait though, for those of you who cared.

Happy readings.

In truth, he hadn't meant to leave her alone, it just… happened. He had come to awaken, his breath heavy and stale, rancid to his own nose, to find himself entangled on the floor in a jumble of limbs and a thick blanket. There were spots upon the floor where Faye's bullet wounds had bled and stained the blanket. His own wound had bled, though not nearly as much. He rose softly and silently discovering, to his relief, that he was not completely nude, and though what happened had been passionate, it could not be called sex… so it was alright.

He slid into his clothes, still in a pile near the door so that they could leak on tile and not carpet. The weren't soaked but they weren't near dry. They were cold and wet and irritated his skin, all moving parts of his body(such as elbows, knees, ect…) were being chafed by the damp material that had come to smell of mildew and dirt. He shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like being idle in the same room as her, watching her sleep. It felt… odd. So to occupy himself, he wiped the mess his clothes had left, to save the woman from at least one argument when she awoke.

But it wasn't enough.

He saw Faye's bandages, used and bloody, the medicinal gauze he had used had leaked a bit due to the excessive amount he had used, scared that they become infected and thus make her sick, or any more uncomfortable. They would need to be changed when she awoke from her comfortable spot on the floor. Inspection of her first aid kit showed that there weren't enough bandages, not to mention gauze to cover her wounds. And in attempt to fill the awkwardness he felt, he fled from the apartment to run errands, something he would normally leave for someone else to do. But this time was different. Spike rarely left his comfort zone, a space of lazy-eyes looks and grins. He never let anyone in it, not since Julia died, and had never planned on it. That is, until he got drunk and let Faye see that he was a normal man, and that he did have wants. And that he was't always a bastard.

But she did see.

And that fact bothered him so much he was content to do anything that would take his mind off of the botheration. So he left the room, a small 'click' signaling his departure.

And now he was browsing through the isles of a causal store, every so often swiping a small cheap objects that he really didn't need, until he found the gauze and bandages. He also grabbed a tube of a 'No-scar' solution. Maybe Faye would want it. He rang up his unstolen items, paid, and left, a few more lighters and cigarettes heavier. He had made sure to buy Faye's favorite brand. Taken she still smoked. Make no mistake, he wouldn't just give them to her. Oh, no. That was too simple. He would make sure she went through her own share of anger and frustration before she got these.

He almost smiled at the thought of taunting her. Something he used to do so often, something he used to do to blow some steam, or build some up. Regardless, it had become a past time. When he was away, catching bounties alone and causing a fair share of trouble, it had seemed so empty, as if something was missing. Maybe that's what drove him back to his adopted family. He had been used to being alone before he met them, but then, they kind of filled that lonely space. And even though at times when he was with them he felt alone, he never really was.

"I guess that's not something you can walk away from. And then stay away," he muttered.

He was headed to the Bebop for a change of clothes before he went back to Faye's apartment. It was only 8:00. He figured she wouldn't be up till 10, like always.

He had some time to kill.

Faye's eyes had long since been leeched dry. Still on the floor though conveniently relocated to her room, after she had raided the bathroom. It seemed to have been an eternity ago, when she had scourged the bathroom. She knew it was there! And now, as she sat on the floor, her pale porcelain face directed downward. She stared at the razor blade, sitting delicately and innocently between her fingertips, not aware of the pain it could cause. It was all so morbid it was beautiful. And if she could cry any more, she would have.

No, she had never been in favor of self-infliction, and she didn't believe she was. She didn't know if she could handle any more pain. But then, hadn't the pain she had already felt numbed everything else? Would she really feel any more? She touched the blade to the vein in her wrist.

A thin line of blood appeared. And she felt it.

Damn it!! Now was not the time for her to feel! She couldn't do it, she couldn't cut herself. And in her frustration she hurled the razorblade, still tipped with blood, and watched it slide stupidly under the shut door of her room. Well, if she couldn't cause any more wounds, why not let the ones she already had bleed? And as soon as the idea hit, she ripped of every bandage covering her, her teeth and nails digging in. It took a while, and the frustration was so unbelievable that every so often she would cry out and curse the gods, if there were any, and tell them to rot in the darkest spot in hell. The gods though, never responded. But she was content with that.

And as the last bandage came off, she stood, naked now, and walked to the kitchen to recover any alcoholic beverage she could find. Turns out, there were a few. She walked back to her room, shutting the door, as a trail of blood was left behind her.

Her compact chose this moment to sound, a worried Jet had called to check up on the two Beboppers. It was cast on the floor, under the sofa pointed so that it could see from below the darkness. But the call was never answered, though it went through, and all Jet saw was crimson droplets on gray carpet before he hung up and placed a call to someone else.

Spike was ready to touchdown on the Bebop when his Com sounded. A frantic Jet appeared, asking where Faye was, asking why he saw blood. Spike responded coolly, levelheaded. 'At her apartment', and 'why the fuck would I know?' Jet screamed for him to check it out and cut off.

Only then did he allow himself to panic.

Did she try to change her wounds? But, there weren't enough bandages, she would bleed… Would she try to get some? No, he hoped, she would wait for him to get back. But did she know where he went?

"No," he spoke aloud to himself.

Would she think that he had left her? Again? His Swordfish swung around, veering slightly but getting back on course, speeding off toward his destination.

She would be all right. She had to be.

He burst open the door calling her name before he even set foot inside. Then he too saw the drops of fresh blood, leading down the hall to her room. He arrived at her bedroom door in a flash, but a glint of metal did not fall from his line of vision. He picked it up. It was slightly lined with blood.

A razor blade..?

His eyes widened.

"Shit!"

He dropped it as he grasped the door handle. The fact it was locked only pissed him off, and it only withstood one kick before it splintered open, to reveal Faye lying within. And he saw her, nude, gripping a bottle of Vodka and her bed sheets, as she lay slumped on the floor at the foot of her bed. Strewn around her was at least three other bottles, who knew if there were more under the bed or in the trash, all emptied and devoid of any liquid. Her bandages were laying in a disarrayed mess, ripped and shredded, strewn across the room.

Her wounds had all been aggravated open, the careful stitch work gone, just bloody holes.

And the blood was all around her.

On her face around her mouth and hands, leaking from her wounds to the floor, forming a crimson puddle, which she soaked in. Her breathing was so shallow it was almost nonexistent. He didn't believe it as he took it in. He couldn't watch another woman die in his arms, he couldn't take it.

And the guilt. He couldn't help but feel as though this was all entirely his fault. If he hadn't come back, hell, if he hadn't of left. None of this… none of this drama and turmoil would have happened. He couldn't say that they would all be happy, but it had to be better that this.

He stepped forward and gripped the woman in his arms, and he called her name and tried to force her to come back to him.

Yes, it was kinda(really) short. I plan on getting more up soon(when have we heard that?) and I think that this is drawing to an end. Oh no! What will happen? Yeah, I left you guys for a few months, and when I update, it's a cliffie. Yeeeaaaaahh, I'm a sly thang! looks around um… okay. Well, I think you can tell I changed a bit in these months, not nearly as hyper active(still am though, just not… so much) and a hell-ova-lot lazier…. --;;; me canno tell a lie. There so much to say..!!! but I'll just leave it as the fact that I'm going to get a DA(Deviant art) account soon and post a few pictures.

Oh, and uh…. Push that button that says 'review'. I love it when people talk to me! Even if they hated it, at least someone said something!! So please, do. More cookies for you.